


The New Recruit

by micbb



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Torchwood(s), Alternate Universe, F/M, Military
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 20:46:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5716489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/micbb/pseuds/micbb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sergeant John Smith is recruited into the prestigious and top secret Torchwood Team Echo, where he meets the wity and sharp team leader, Brigadier Rose Tyler, who will challenge not only his physical abilities but his entire belief system.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New Recruit

"Smith!"

John Smith lifted his head to see Major James Borusa beckoning him with a stern gaze and two fingers.

"What did you  _do_?" Corporal Canton Delaware muttered, his eyebrows lifted when he caught sight of their commanding officer summoning John.

"I've got no idea," John grunted as he stood from his seat in the mess hall to make his way over to where his superior officer beckoned by the door. At six feet tall, Sergeant John Smith was one of the taller men in his unit. He could not, however, be called conventionally handsome, mostly due to his rather large nose and ears, but his tall stature, sturdy build, and piercing blue eyes made him attractive in his own right. Once he was close enough, his feet drew together and his hand raised to his forehead in a salute. "Major Borusa." He acknowledged with a respectful bow of his head as his hands moved to rest comfortably at his back.

Major Borusa nodded back. "Sergeant, this is Director Pete Tyler of the Torchwood Institute."

The sergreant saluted quickly before frowning. "I've never heard of Torchwood."

Pete Tyler's answering smile was small. "You still haven't, Sergeant Smith. Unless, of course, you choose to take me up on my offer."

"Offer?"

Pete handed him a manila envelope that seemed empty to John's callused fingers when he took it, but he didn't question it. "Don't open that in front of anyone," Pete told him seriously. "Torchwood is top secret. Are we clear, Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir." John replied curtly.

"Good," Pete said, seemingly satisfied. "Then I hope to hear from you soon, Sergeant." With a nod at both John and Borusa, Pete took his leave, hands in his pockets. He was the definition of calm and collected, save for the tension that John could see in his shoulders.

"Dismissed, Smith." Borusa barked. John nodded sharply, tucking the envelope into his jacket before he walked back over to where Delaware was watching curiously.

"What was that?" Delaware asked, looking at John curiously.

John shrugged. "Don't know," he replied, taking a bite of his lunch. The envelope suddenly felt like it weighed a ton in his pocket, but he knew better than let his curiosity get the best of him. He would open it when he was done his training for the day. He could wait that long.

* * *

It was a piece of paper.

Only the top half had writing on it, and he frowned as he read the small writing.

_Sgt. J. Smith,_

_You have been selected for Torchwood Team Echo._

_Contact the number below for further instructions,_

_Regards,_

_Pete Tyler_

_Director, Torchwood_

There was a phone number at the bottom of the page that John frowned at. That was it? Two lines of writing? What the hell was Torchwood anyway? It was special ops, obviously. No one else was this secretive, but even this was a bit much for the usual special ops. He glared at the number for several minutes. Was this really something he wanted to get involved in? They were obviously a particularly secret bunch, and he wondered whom was excluded from the secrecy. The regular military, probably, because behind Borusa's stern expression there had been a flicker of curiosity. But what about friends, family?

He snorted at himself. It wasn't like he had an abundance of friends anyway, just the few men from the army, like Delaware, that he occasionally spent time with. He didn't have family, not after the fire that had raged through Gallifrey, his small hometown in Ireland.

So the secrecy wouldn't honestly be that much of an issue for him.

He finally shrugged to himself. There was no reason he shouldn't see what the "further instructions" were. He dialed the number and held the receiver to his ear as it rang.

" _Smith and Associates,"_  a chipper voice greeted him, and he frowned in confusion, checking the number on the phone to make sure he had dialed the right one. There were no errors that he could see.

"Uhm, I'm looking for Pete Tyler." John said uncertainly.

" _One moment, please,"_  the cheerful woman on the other end to him, and cheesy elevator music began to play through the phone, making him groan.

Thankfully, he wasn't on hold for long. " _Smith and Associates, Pete Tyler's office."_ A new voice greeted, one decidedly less chipper and more business like.

"I'm looking for Pete Tyler," John said again, with more certainty this time. He wagered he was calling the right place, considering they hadn't hung up on him yet.

"Name?" The voice sounded like a strange mix between bored and irritated.

"Sergeant John Smith," he replied.

"Sergeant Smith, thank you for your call. Mister Tyler will be in touch with you as soon as possible. Goodnight."

She hung up.

John stared at the phone in confusion before carefully setting the phone down on his desk. He shook his head at his own folly, unsure why he thought something huge was happening to him, and picked up his favourite book the read in his very little leisure time – Oliver Twist.

Less than half an hour later, there was a knock at his door. John grumbled as he rose to answer it, and glared at the young private who was as good as quivering in his boots as he faced the intimidating captain. "What?" John demanded, annoyed at having been disturbed.

"There's a car for you, sir," the private said quickly before rushing off, eager to get away from John's intense glare.

John blinked. He hadn't ordered a car.

With an irritated sigh, he pulled on his boots and leather jacket – he didn't have to be in uniform after hours – and made his way outside to tell the driver that he hadn't ordered a car, the man must have had an incorrect address.

However, once he stepped outside, he realized his mistake.

The driver was standing near the door, his hands clasped casually in front of him as he waited for his charge. As soon as John came into view, the man called to him, "Sergeant Smith?" John froze for a moment before nodding, receiving a curt nod in response, and the driver opened the door to the back seat, allowing John to get in the car.

He found himself seated next to Pete Tyler, who was grinning widely. When John was settled, Pete offered his hand. "We were glad to hear from you, sergeant," Pete said cheerfully before nodding to the driver, who took them away from the military base. John said nothing as Pete continued to chat amicably. "We're very excited to have you on board, in any case." Pete finished, a smile on his face.

John frowned. "I haven't agreed to anything, Mr. Tyler."

"Call me Pete. Or Director. Anyway, you called, and that's good enough for us. I'm almost certain that once you see our facilities, you won't regret your decision."

"Does this mean you're going to tell me what Torchwood is?" John snapped, annoyed at still being in the dark.

"Of course," Pete replied breezily. "Torchwood is a top secret intelligence institution that studies extraterrestrial life. Our goal is to develop new technologies based on alien models, to meet and interact with these aliens, and to form trades and treaties with them. We're arming planet earth for the future, Sergeant Smith.

"Very Star Trek," John scoffed, making Pete chuckle.

"I suppose it is, yes." Pete grinned. "Anyway, Torchwood has a few branches. Torchwood One is where we're going – it's our base here in Britain. Torchwood Two is in Glasgow, Torchwood Three is in Cardiff, and Torchwood Five is in India."

"Where's Torchwood Four?" John asked bluntly.

Pete flapped his hand, unbothered. "Not sure right now. It'll turn up." John frowned, but allowed Pete to keep talking. "Anyway, Torchwood operates outside the government and the United Nations. We answer to no one but ourselves, and no one knows the extent of our research and progress except us."

"What does this have to do with me?" John was getting impatient.

"I'm getting to that. Like I said, Torchwood mostly does research. However, aliens aren't always friendly, and more than once we've had to fight off potential invasions or small isolated attacks."

John regarded the man with disbelief. "How come you didn't call the regular army?" he demanded.

Pete shot him a scathing look. "Sergeant, Torchwood has a very accomplished defense unit made up of people who have been specifically trained trained to fight non-humans using non-human technology. We are not affiliated with the army, although they do call us for help on occasion."

John mulled this over in his head. "If there have been invasions, like you say, how come no one seems to know about them?"

Pete grinned. "My agents are very good, Sergeant." He reached into the pocket of the seat in front of him and pulled out a file that was stacked to the brim with paper. When he opened it, John saw a picture of himself on top of the file, and his heart began to speed up. No one was supposed to have his file. "Now, then, Sergeant John Smith. Born August 7, 1974, in Gallifrey, Ireland. Joined the military at the age of 18 in 1992. Excellent in basic training. Moved through the ranks quickly. Two years spent as a private, three years as a lance corporal, two as a corporal. Sergeant by the time you were 25. Very impressive, indeed. Served as a sergeant in Afghanistan and Iraq. Four tours in the former, three in the latter, is that correct, sergeant?"

"Yes, sir," John shifted uncomfortably.

Pete nodded, "Right, right. I see recommendations from your superior officers here, as well as good reviews from soldiers under your command. Got on with all of your training officers except one, I see."

John snorted, making Pete grin. "Yes well. I'd be concerned if there was nothing negative at all, sergeant." Pete told him. "As it is, this is by far one of the most distinguished military careers I've seen in years. The only reason we didn't get in touch with your sooner is because you always seemed to be abroad."

"I've only done my fair share, Director." John told him seriously, not wanting Pete to dwell on his accomplishments. He hadn't done any more than any other man, in his opinion. He was just lucky enough to be built for battle.

Pete nodded. "Well said, soldier." He replied knowingly. "Now then, moving on to what everything I've said has to do with  _you_."

John let out a huff of air. Finally.

"Torchwood mostly recruits from the military, but you will see the occasional doctor or scientist recruited from hospitals. You've been on our radar for quite some time, as I said before, and we're very excited at the possibility of having you at Torchwood.

"Torchwood Team Echo is my most experienced field team. I usually wouldn't send someone new to Torchwood directly to them, but they've been down a member for a few weeks and the brigadier who runs Team Echo wouldn't get off my back, and your military experience should be more than enough to get you started."

John quietly seethed at the idea that he would have to  _get started_ , especially not with his background, but years of etiquette training held his tongue.

"Today we'll give you a tour of our facilities, and some basic information. You'll get the general idea of what we do here at Torchwood. After that, you'll make your decision. You'll have to stay on site until you do, mind."

That caught John's attention. "Stay on site?" He repeated. He was a sergeant in the military, and not on leave.

Pete nodded. "Your Major Borusa has already been alerted."

John paused, mulling this over. "How long do I have to decide?"

Pete shrugged. "Technically, as long as you want. There are barracks. Some operatives are quite dedicated, I assure you. I can't promise you the position, though, sergeant. If it takes too long and someone equally matched accepts, you'll be asked to leave."

"That's it?" John asked suspiciously. It was a whole lot of secrecy to be just  _asked to leave_  if he didn't take the job.

Pete's lips pulled into a wry smile. "No," the man admitted, "but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

The car came to a stop in front of a tall, mostly glass building. Pete slipped quickly out of the car, John a step behind him, and walked through the doors of the grand building. The walked directly into an elevator, which was already on the ground floor. When the doors closed shut, Pete typed in a long code before swiping an ID card over the scanner, and, to John's surprise, the elevator began to move down, not up.

"Offices are upstairs," Pete told him as they went lower and lower. "Those of us who don't belong to a particular branch – just to Torchwood, have offices here, and your brigadier's office is there as well, although she barely uses it."

The elevator  _dinged_  and the doors opened again. They stepped out into a gloomy room with grey cement walls and a single fingerprint scanner. Pete pressed his thumb against it, and a large door hissed open to reveal the Torchwood One base.

The room was large, very large, and surrounded by the grey cement walls. It seemed to be arbitrarily sectioned off – there was a young blonde man working away at a computer station, surrounded by mountains of papers and three computer monitors, a flight of stairs to his left that seemed to lead to an observation deck that surrounded the whole room, with large glass doors directly across from him. Railings along the deck blocked whatever was through them from sight. Across from him on the same level as John and Pete and another boxed off area, closed in by glass walls. He could see white walls and white furniture, and experience led him to believe that area was for a doctor to do their work. Tucked into a rather large portion of the room was a long desk that partially blocked the view of what looked like a wall of safes. A young man with dark skin and a deep frown was examining something John couldn't see on the desk. Apart from those two, there didn't seem to be anyone in the room.

"This is Torchwood One," Pete said unnecessarily. "That's Jake Simmonds," the blonde looked up at the mention of his name, and quickly saluted the director before returning to his work. Pete nodded and led John through the room until they were across the desk from the other man. "And this is Major Mickey Smith." The man in question looked up from his work to see the director and John peering curiously at his work.

Major Smith offered his hand with a grin. "Call me Mickey. You're the new guy?"

John took the offered hand. "Maybe," he said with a shrug.

Mickey nodded. "Welcome aboard." Before John could comment on the fact that everyone seemed to take the fact that he would accept the job for granted, Mickey turned to the director. "She's not here." Mickey said simply.

Pete frowned. "What do you mean she's not here? She's always here!"

Mickey chuckled. "Director, you know as well as I do that if you bring paperwork within fifty feet of her, she bolts. She heard you were bringing the new guy over and she left, saying she had some errands to run."

"What does any of this have to do with paperwork?" John demanded before Pete could say anything.

Mickey turned his easy grin on John. "The brig doesn't like paperwork, and a new recruit is a lot of paperwork." He explained. "There are a lot of forms to be filled out, and she gets to sign them all. You're going to have to be sneakier than that." Mickey said to Pete, who was scowling.

"I did," Pete retorted, a smirk on his face. "I've told him enough that he's based here until we get an answer."

Mickey's mouth popped open for a moment, and he looked between the director and John before bursting out into loud laughter. "She's going to kill you." He chuckled once he caught his breath.

Pete said nothing, just lead John away. Mickey waved goodbye, a smirk on his face and curiosity shining in his eyes. "Come on, then, sergeant," Pete said. "I'll show you where you can stay until you decide."


End file.
